


circumstances, both fair and unfair

by akanemnida



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu the secret Sakusa fanboy, Atsumu the volleyball fanboy, Atsumu watches Sakusa from up in the stands, Introspection, M/M, Mostly Gen, Pre-Slash, Pre-Timeskip, Spring High 2013, mentions of injury, meteorites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27057742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akanemnida/pseuds/akanemnida
Summary: Shit happens, but the future has much more in store.(Or: Omi-kun and his meteorite and Atsumu up in the stands to see it all.)
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 143
Collections: SakuAtsu Fics





	circumstances, both fair and unfair

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on twitter, but I liked it too much not to post it here as well. Way, way shorter than my usuals, but I hope you like it just the same!

“Nice kill, Omi-kun!” Atsumu yells, resounding, earning strange looks from the spectators standing nearby. This was the famed setter, Miya Atsumu—the one who demanded utter silence from the stadium whenever it was his turn to serve—making noise for the top ace, Itachiyama’s best player, the lanky MVP who had graced several _Volleyball Monthly_ covers. Camaraderie between a setter and spiker from prefectures so far away from each other is so rare, especially in the cutthroat world of volleyball. A big name cheering on a big name; for the biggest of volleyball nerds, the simple exaltation was a moment to behold.

Except _Omi-kun_ does not quite receive the compliment gracefully, instead shooting a glare towards the stands. The setter laughs, sheepish, only mildly regretting publicizing the terrible nickname. _Omi-kun_ ’s un-comradely glare melts into a pout. Sakusa half-heartedly high-fives his teammates and rotates into place.

Atsumu continues watching.

What else is a boy supposed to do when he’s eliminated early from the tournament he was second seed in? What else is he to do but to watch last summer’s best team? There’s really nothing better to do other than to watch. Just hours ago he seemed destined to take down Itachiyama and their prissy ace with the two moles on his forehead, only to get eliminated due to his own hubris. Now all he can do is watch Japan’s top high school spiker from meters above.

Atsumu learned in youth camp that Omi-kun— _Kiyoomi_ —is fifty sorts of amazing, wrists angling in infinite ways, sending fearsome spikes to the farthest corners of the court that even opposing liberos can’t reach. Atsumu would’ve preferred to watch him from up close and challenge him with his tosses, to taunt him and earn glares in return. He would’ve preferred to praise his kills from down below.

But Atsumu doesn’t live in the past, prefers to live in the present. Defeat means he gets this unique opportunity to watch Sakusa Kiyoomi at his best.

And Sakusa Kiyoomi at his best is enthralling. Long limbs the perfect model of control, deliberate motion and power all the way to his fingertips. The arch of his back when he spikes is picturesque, and the swing of his arm when it launches a spike over the net, giving Inubushi East hell, lacks no follow-through. Whereas Atsumu had admirers from all over who thought that his biggest asset is his face, Kiyoomi, Sakusa, _Omi-kun_ initiates commotion because of his perfect receives.

The crowd cheers when Omi-kun executes a perfect feint. Atsumu spits out the metallic taste of envy, voicing it instead as a mildly sarcastic cheer: _Omi-kun!_

This time, the ace doesn’t even look up, only rolling his eyes in response. The game continues and Atsumu so desperately wants Kiyoomi to win.

And then—it happens so quickly, in the blink of an eye, and Atsumu doesn’t even notice because his eyes were transfixed on the ace. The crowd gasps, and then chaos. In the space near him, like surround sound, were audible whispers of _Their setter—_ and shocked cries of _He’s down—_

_Fuck, that looks—_

And Atsumu sees: the twisted ankle, Sakusa Kiyoomi’s wide eyes as he moves over to his fallen setter. He winces. There is a whistle to signify the start of a time-out. His barely-suppressed envy morphs into anger—Itachiyama losing their Junior Olympics level setter at this stage only means bad things for the team Atsumu found himself rooting for wholeheartedly. And this isn’t fair, because Sakusa Kiyoomi is the best spiker, and Komori Motoya is the best libero, and it hits Miya Atsumu that _he’s_ the best setter and he’s spectating in the stands. Soon enough there will be the three of them, numerically at top of their respective player standings, standing in the upper floors of the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium. Cheering instead of playing.

But this is different. Atsumu knows that his plays and his successive decisions let himself and his team down; Inarizaki got kicked out of the tournament by faults that were his own. That, he can own up to. Kiyoomi Sakusa, the player he had been watching for the greater part of two hours, was about to lose because of _circumstance_. It isn’t Iizuna Tsukasa’s fault. These things _happen_. But the sheer randomness of it pisses Atsumu off. Kiyoomi looks up at the stands, catching his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but if he squints: the slightest hint of disappointment. Pointless noise would be insensitive, so Atsumu just shrugs almost imperceptibly. Kiyoomi, by some miracle, catches it. His responding nod is just as undetectable.

Atsumu doesn’t live in the past, so in that moment, he resolves benevolently:

_I’ll try my best, so my spikers never lose again because of me,_

And selfishly,

 _I’ll set for you one day, Omi-kun_.

And less selfishly,

_We’ll hold on to the top one day, Omi-kun._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos motivate me, and I'm on twitter as @bottomikun if you're up for a chat!


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